


Youth

by saturnrings



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 90's Music, 90's Setting, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bisexual Prompto, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Random appearances of Kingdom Hearts characters, Random appearances of other Final Fantasy characters, Romance, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, teen drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnrings/pseuds/saturnrings
Summary: It's when your classmate gets a crush on you and people start talking. It's when that scary upperclassman you buy weed from stands up for you. It's when life starts changing and you get lost in the current. It's about getting older, finding out who you are and accepting it. It's about drinking for the first time and regretting it in the morning, when you take your first hit and start to lose coherence. It's about being a square peg in a round hole society.It's about defining what it means to grow up and become a man.





	1. The Brevity of Youth

**Author's Note:**

> \- 4/7/2019 as of Today, Youth will STILL be updated, BUT it is also being adapted into original fiction. It's updated and better, I think, and I'll have more updates on that soon to those that are interested. -

 They say that youth is wasted on the young. 

An odd phrase that has churned in Noctis' mind for some time, settling between his intense fascination for fantasy novels and music videos for bands he didn't listen to. He couldn't remember where he first heard that phrase, whether his old man had mentioned it under his breath or he'd seen it in a movie. For him, it was simply a phrase that existed, that had always been apart of his tiny corner of the universe and presumably, a fraction of others. Cor had told him once it was because when you're young, you're stupid and you think that you know how the world works. It's not that Noctis thought highly enough to make the assumption that he knew how the world worked. He was perfectly fine in admitting his shortcomings - but he couldn't say he knew nothing either.

Adults like to make the world seem more complicated than it really is, Noctis has decided. 

But for now, he churns the phrase in his mind, running it through multiple metaphorical ringers as if doing mental laundry. It's flattened out, hung to dry and iron, and still, the fog of it's meaning never clears. It's a stain on his otherwise profound mind. 

Though, the fog could also be attributed to the fact that he was stoned at the moment. 

Smoke rings dance in the evening air, the first chill of fall entering the air as the leaves rustle on the ground, rich shades of brown and orange skittering across the sidewalk. It's a hypnotic sight, watching them dance on the pavement. They were once living things, but the cold has taken everything from them, leaving them to wither away and die. Noctis has an abject hatred for the cold by now in his eighteen years of life. 

"Sup." 

Noctis looks upwards towards the grey sky. Squall Leonhart stands above him scowling, batting away smoke with a single, weak hand before sitting down on the parking block. Squall looks a lot like River Phoenix, Noctis thinks. It's the face, the expressions. If he held a picture and put them side by side, one may think they were twins. Personality wise, however, they couldn't differ anymore. Whereas River had perfected the art of 'teen idol' and classified under 'Boy you would take home to your parents', Squall was the last person on Noctis' mind when it came to the teen idol image. 

He was also where 90% of the school got their weed from. 

It helped to have an allowance. Regis had given him the money believing it was his 'going out' funds when really it was his drug money. Every two weeks they would meet underneath the old bypass and wait for the others to arrive. The usual group consisted of Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Gladio Amicitia, and sometimes, though not often, Reno Sinclair. All Squall's friends, with the exception of Gladio. If he asked though, Squall would quickly deny being friends with them and refer to them as 'known enemies'. Noctis was pretty sure this was a reference to something but Squall never indulged. 

"Nothin," Noctis sighs, blowing smoke rings into the sky. 

The day was hell, and though a small part of him wants to talk about it and complain to Squall, he knows the question is purely arbitrary. Squall doesn't actually care. He isn't the type to engage in small talk or menial conversation. He sits next to him quietly and prepares his own joint, rolling with expert precision while keeping a watchful eye on the bypass. 

When the new highway opened, the old bypass was closed, leaving the area mostly deserted, but it didn't stop a few cops from lingering here and then. It'd be easy to catch a couple of stoners in a field with waist-high overgrowth. Broken bottles and fast food scraps could be found in the overgrowth, alongside ticks if you weren't careful. By now, the group has mastered getting to the tiny parking lot without much trouble. The first time Noctis had come, Squall had tricked him into wading through the overgrowth for their amusement and went home with two ticks in his head. 

Luna had removed them without many words. She knew where he'd gone, and there was a silent agreement not to tell Regis. 

Eventually, he grew used to Squall's jokes and the two developed a light friendship that was only ever apparent when they were stoned. If they weren't at the bypass, they were strangers with familiar faces. 

Cloud was the second to show up, coming through the usual route as Zack Fair trailed behind him. For the first few minutes, everyone is silent, merely inhaling fumes and exchanging knowing glances, the occasional hello being passed around.  Gladio is last, trailing in, already high and carrying a half-empty beer bottle. He lays out across the cracked pavement, uncaring of the crabgrass that cushions his head. The air is getting too cold to do this, and Noctis wonders what they'll do when it gets too cold to stand out here to smoke. He can't imagine them organizing a new place - going to Gladio's house and sitting on the couch.

It was too personal - it was something that friends did. 

"This is bullshit," Zack speaks, exhaling a long puff of white smoke. 

The air is potent with his words and smoke, and it takes all of them a moment to comprehend his words. 

"What is," Gladio hums.  
"What happened to Noctis." 

He isn't high enough to not feel awkward when the group's eyes trained on him. He wants to shrink into his jacket, cursing Zack for his caring attitude. He was right, though. It was bullshit what happened. Noctis quickly takes another long hit, avoiding saying something for a moment longer because he isn't sure how to explain the situation just yet. 

"What happened?" 

 

* * *

 

The day starts out normal. 

Noctis has made a habit of watching MTV before school, hoping to catch a Beavis and Butthead rerun because it's the only thing that's interesting. He's tired of the same videos on a loop on MTV, but there isn't much he can do to salvage his favorite station. Regis tells him to turn it down, and like always, Noctis will turn it down by one and Regis will smile and act like he's done just as he said. It's not that Noctis actively wants to disobey Regis, or that he's a troublemaker. Regis lets him get away with too much, however. For once, Noctis wants to know what it's like to get yelled at. 

He takes the bus because lowering himself to allowing his father to take him seems like a cop-out. He's trying to form the image of grunge and it seems meaningless to have a parent taking him to school. It defeats the purpose of trying to appear cool. Regis just smiles at him gently, gives him his drug money and sends him on his way. Noctis wonders if he’s is really so dull to not know or if he just doesn't care. Surely the smell of marijuana is enough to tell him what he does, but still, Regis says nothing. 

"Have a good day!" 

Noctis hums idly, stepping onto the crowded school bus. He stayed up late the night before, shifting and organizing his CD collection. The process of exchanging all his old cassette's to CD's has been a pain, but finally, he's starting to collect new ones again. They litter the surface of his bedroom, sticking out of the bookshelf, in stacks on the floor, on the window sill despite how everyone says that's not good for them. It isn't like he cares though. Any damage can be replaced, with Regis' seemingly endless pocket of money and generosity. 

He takes his seat at the window, staring out at the neighborhood as it passes. Only one person has ever asked him why he takes the bus when he lives in a more upscale neighborhood, but Noctis blew him off and the kid never asked again. For the most part, people ignore him. But only because he's rich and his father is the Mayor.

The same can’t be said for Prompto Argentum.

He’s a boy that stands out a little too much to simply fly beneath the high school radar, a little too socially inept to not be noticed by some of the harsher crowds. When he walks onto the bus wearing clothes from the thrift store, Noctis allows himself to look. He has a rule against looking at people on the bus, but Prompto is a different story.

It’s too hard not to look at him when he stands out so starkly against jocks and grunge kids.

Today, Prompto keeps his head down just long enough to take his seat behind Noctis before he gazes out the window. Noctis watches him through lidded eyes, pretending to be half asleep when really, if he leans against the window just so, he can catch his unknowing reflection. There’s something off about him.

Noctis has spent the past five days weekly looking at him from the tiny reflection the windows allow, but today, his eyes seem far away, staring into the horizon as if he wants nothing more than to go away from that tiny town.

Prompto catches his eyes, and the heat that comes to his cheeks is questionable.

There’s been speculation that he wasn’t entirely for girls, though Noctis isn’t one to put this rumor to the test, nor is he one to really engage in adolescent gossip circles that breed rumors like that. So, he’s been content in letting it slide, pretending long enough that it wasn’t his business. Only now, he’s starting to wonder.

Prompto quickly leans down, pulling a notebook from his backpack. Noctis watches curiously as he begins scribbling on the page before finally, he tears it out, folds it, and passes it to him in the tiny crack between the wall and the seat.

‘Do I have something on my face?’

It makes Noctis wants to laugh, so much that he’s unable to stop the chuckle that spills from his open lips. He clicks his pen, chewing on the edge for a moment before propping his knee up, hoping the driver doesn’t run over a pothole.

‘No, you’re good. Why?’

Prompto is quick to respond.

‘You stare at me every day’.

‘You sit behind me, and you aren’t exactly someone who blends well into a crowd’.

The answer seems casual enough but perhaps, in the long run, that’s what begun the problem.

Prompto scribbles again, but as he leans forward to pass it back, the edge of the bus dips into an indent in the road, and everyone jerks forward. The folded paper goes skittering across the floor across the alley. There’s no time to panic, someone’s already taken hold of it, knowing that it somehow belonged to Prompto and began reading it.

For a brief moment, Noctis felt his ears go red, felt his soul leave his body as white-hot, intense panic set in.

“O.M.G”  
“It’s not-“  
“NOCTIS AND PROMPTO ARE TOGETHER!”

 

* * *

 

Noctis ends the story, placing his head on his knees as he tries to breathe in the harsh cold air. His high has worn down, and by now, even Gladio is watching him expectedly.

“Dude,” Zack begins, “are you gay?”

His eyes are still glazed and blood-shot, but Zack is among the best at handling himself stoned. He isn’t much different from his usual self, and there’s apart of him that’s still conscious.

“No!” Noctis exclaims, standing up, kicking rocks, “I’m not gay! I’m not with Prompto.”  
“I didn’t ask if you were with Prompto, I was asking if you were gay. You know the rumors about him right? It’s like social suicide to chill with him.”

High school politics were a deadly, unforgiving thing. Rumors were as good as fact, where you were believed guilty until proven innocent, and even then, you were still probably guilty. Where if someone’s cousin had a friend who saw it, it was as good as fact.

 “Yeah but-“  
“No buts,” Squall interrupts, “thing is, the entire student body has accepted the rumor that Prompto Argentum is probably not straight. If it was anybody else, you could probably get away with saying it was nothing, but not Prompto.”  
“There’s no proof that he’s gay,” Noctis protests quietly.  
“Yeah,” Cloud nods, “but there’s also no proof that he’s straight either.”

 

* * *

 

Regis is waiting when he gets home. He still smells like expensive designer cologne while Noctis reeks of stale clothes and marijuana. He gives his false little smile and asks how school went, but Noctis is smarter by now to tell that there’s an undertone of question in Regis’ voice. He wonders if the school called him, somewhere between the fights, the yelling, the heavy protests of his sexuality.

Probably.

Being listed as an ‘at-risk youth’ didn’t help his case, any tiny infractions were reported straight to Regis and mostly swept beneath the radar to be forgotten. No one wanted to be responsible for giving the mayor’s kid detention.

“I heard about what happened at school,” He says carefully during dinner, looking at him over his glass of wine, “do you want to talk about it?”  
“Not particularly,” Noctis replies, eyes focused on the TV.  
“Are you gay, son?”

His father’s voice is soft, and for a split second, Noctis realizes just how much his actions reflect on his father. What did having a rumored gay son do for his reputation? He scoffed, tossing down his fork on the table.

“I’m not gay,” He says defiantly, “Prompto is.”

Regis nods, as though he understands, and doesn’t say much afterward.

 

 


	2. Ocean Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W A R N I N G: There's some homophobic language in this chapter, so please be careful! 
> 
> That being said, this chapter is very gay. Enjoy!

 August 1992

 

He remembers the first time he met Prompto. 

In a room of mourners dressed in black, a boy with hair the color of sunshine entered. He was a newcomer into town, someone who didn't know his way and was often found asking for directions for places everyone knew. He stood out so starkly against the washed-up locals and stagnant teenagers, it was impossible not to notice him. Fresh meat in a sea of the walking dead. Like zombies seeking fresh flesh, his presence was undeniable. He walked into the room looking out of place, keeping his head down and paying his respects because he was a citizen and Noctis' classmate. There were people there who had never even met Aulea but were simply there because they loved Regis and they wanted to pay respects. 

Prompto looked up, and for a fraction of a second, their eyes met. His eyes are like the ocean on a good day, when the waves were tranquil, and the water was warm. Like going to the beach in the summer and not getting sunburned, building a sandcastle and going home right as the sun began to cool. It was oddly peaceful, comforting - safe. He was a total stranger then, just someone he saw occasionally in classes but never truly noticed until that moment. Why had he come? Prompto parts through the crowds in an awkward shuffle, quietly excusing himself as he tried politely passing. He stumbled once or twice over the chairs, and it was embarrassing enough to watch, but there was something endearing about his efforts. 

"Hey, uh, Noctis," He says, stopping in front of him.

He's maybe an inch shorter, but he seems so small compared to everyone else in the room. Like he's trying hard to not be as noticeable - like he doesn't want people to see him.

"I'm Prompto, I sit behind you in Lit."   
"I know," Noctis says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

If he emptied the contents of his pockets now, he wondered if Prompto would be surprised. He hasn't worn these pants since he went to a wedding. There's a tiny ball of lint, a couple penny's, and a bent cigarette. Somehow, feeling this strange collection of items, he feels himself relax. These items that have always been there, right when he wants to fidget most. He lets the penny's roll between his fingers, feels the tobacco in the cigarette start to break apart into his pocket. Soon the scent of it will touch his fingertips and stain them with their scent. 

"I'm sorry about your mom," Prompto continues, "Really. I'm so sorry." 

Prompto leaves, parting the crowd with much more grace as he steps out into the city. Noctis watched him leave, wondering how things had changed that day. 

 

* * *

 

September 1993

 

His locker is covered in red spray paint.

Noctis stares at the word ‘fag’ and feels himself come closer and closer to wanting to punch something. It’d taken the student body less than a minute to give Cloud detention for calling someone a dumbass, and yet, staring at his locker, Noctis knows that even if he were to say something, nothing would come out of it.

Instead, he pops the cap off his water bottle and starts the painful process of trying to scrub it off. At least for once he’s getting negative attention. He’s always known he wasn’t favored in school, but no one ever made such a bold move. It was almost refreshing – but still, it pissed him off to no end.

“Just ignore them.”

Squall’s words echo in his ears. There’s something to be admired in the way that Squall carries himself. He exists outside of high school politics and social squabbles. He stands in the current that’s life, unmoving while others are washed away. It’s easy for him to say that – no one bothers him. He’s used to people ignoring him.

“I’m sorry, about all this.”

Noctis turns to look over his shoulder.

His eyes are bloodshot, like he’s been crying, and he can see the pain that shows so clearly on his features. He wonders how Prompto made it this far in life. High school politics are a cut throat thing, and it’s a miracle no one has tried to crucify him yet. He’s seen the scathing looks the football team gives him when he passes the locker room. He’s knowing ignored the comments whispered under his classmates breath about Prompto.

Maybe this is all karma coming back on him. Karma for pretending nothing was wrong, karma for pretending it wasn’t his problem.

“It’s…”

He can’t say it’s okay, because it really is, but it’s not Prompto’s fault either.

“It’s not your fault,” Noctis decides, “you don’t have to apologize.”  
“Yeah I know but… still.”

The conversation between them dies down, and Noctis finds himself shuffling, praying for the bell to ring in the next minute to ease the awkward tension between them. Being seen with him is dangerous, but he’s already drowning in shallow water.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noctis says.

He decides to leave first.

 

* * *

 

Noctis never realized just how disgusting the second floor bathrooms were until that very moment.

He’d stepped out of class to take a piss, and almost immediately found himself scooped up and shoved into the nearest stall. There isn’t a single moment to react before a boy is shoving his fist into his stomach.

He sucks in a breath of air, staring at the harsh artificial lighting, counting to ten. He barely makes it past 3 when another fist dives into his side this time. He’s wheezing, gasping so hard that he thinks his throat is going to tear apart from abuse.

It takes him a moment to gain his legs, he wiggles his fist free, half-heartedly jamming it in to his attacker’s side. The distraction is all he needs. He takes another deep breath, wheeling his fist back again into his chest. His attacker is familiar – in height and voice, but for the life of him Noctis can’t remember the name. He’s someone of importance, but the thought doesn’t register until after he’s hit him another time.

“Fucker-“

The stall is too tiny, and as a hand winds around his messy hair, forcing his face into the graffiti walls, Noctis shoves forward. The coppery tang of blood fills his mouth, spit dripping down his chin. There’s nothing elegant or cool about fights – despite how movies would like to make them out to be. Sweat fills the air, mixing with the scent of bleach and urine.

“Get the hell off me!”

A heavy boot smashes into Noctis’ shin, dropping him to his knees.

His attacker – it hits him then. This is Loqi Tummelt.

Loqi Tummelt, who’s barely fucking 5’0 and just kicked his ass.  

“Why don’t you get fucked, fag?”  
“Fuck. You.”

There’s blood on the floor now, and Noctis feels his lip begin to swell. Loqi drives his foot into his stomach a final time. There’s little time to react before bile rises in his throat. He’s always hated throwing up, but there’s no time to be angry now. Loqi releases his hair just in time. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach as the morning’s breakfast returns to the bathroom floor.

“Disgusting.”

 

* * *

 

Squall doesn’t ask questions when Noctis calls him, panting and sick. He pulls into the parking lot in his junky 1970s mustang with a rusted hood and duct tape seats. The thing barely runs, but there’s a certain nostalgia. It’s a first car, kinda car, and Noctis has always admired it.

There’s something cooler about it than the nicer convertibles he sees on the streets. There’s something real about it. He leans against it smoking a joint like it’s a cigarette, like the laws don’t apply to him.

“You look fucked,” Squall hums, sliding in the passenger seat.  
“Got the shit kicked out of me in the bathroom by Loqi Tummelt.”  
“Are you fuckin’ serious?”  
“Piss off.”

There’s an unspoken agreement between the two of them. It’s too early to go home, and Regis will be able to tell by the cameras what time Noct rolled in. Squall drives around for almost an hour before Noctis catches on.

“You’ve circled this neighborhood three times now, you tryin to get us arrested?”  
“Piss off,” Squall mimics, “I’m waiting for someone.”

Squall parks at the end of the block, keeping the car running (because trying to start it back up is a hit or miss, and they don’t want to be stuck in a semi-nice neighborhood in _that_ car).

“Who are you waiting on?”  
“When you’re face looks normal again, I’ll need a favor. It’ll benefit both of us.”  
“What is it?”

Squall grins, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“You know that sweet girl Rinoa Heartilly?”  
“Yeah?”  
“That’s my girl, but her parents’ fuckin’ hate me. I figure you go pick her up for me, being the mayor’s son and all, and they’ll let her go. She poses as your girl, takes the heat off you while you sort out your feelings for the sunshine boy-“

“There’s no feelings to sort out,” Noctis interrupts, “I don’t have feelings for him.”

Squall looks at him unconvinced but drops the topic anyway.

“You smell like piss and vomit.”

 

* * *

 

At first glance, Regis is horrified.

He’s known his son’s habits were somewhat destructive, but in attempt to keep a shred of a relationship he’s never pried. Now, staring at his bruised and beaten face, he feels as though he failed somewhere along the way. As always, Noctis is dismissive, waving a hand at him as if he just fell and scrapped his knee while skateboarding again. But this is different.

This isn’t an accident caused by a fall.

“There’s puke on your shirt,” Regis says, pointing at the stain.

He yanks the shirt over his head without much thought, shoving it into the washing machine and haphazardly drizzling in some detergent. Welts and yellow bruises have begun to form across the expanse of his pale torso, a full rainbow on his body.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

 

* * *

 

They look worse in the mirror, Noctis thinks.

He pokes at the bruise forming on his ribcage, grimacing. The bathroom is filled with steam from the running shower, and for almost ten minutes, Noctis has stood, naked in the humid room.

Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in the shower, but his attention is on the bruises he carries.

“This wasn’t my fault,” he mutters pathetically to his own reflection.

He steps into the shower, water so hot it burns his skin. He wants to recoil but decides not to. It pounds against his skin and turns it an angry red. He did smell pretty bad after the incident in the bathroom, and secretly wonders why Squall hadn’t said anything sooner.

This all started because of one small deal that turned into a big deal. Because Prompto couldn’t contain his curiosity and had to make a note and had to keep passing it back. It’s easier to blame it all on Prompto, because admitting his own fault in it feels like admitting that he does feel something for him. Zack Fair’s words from the day before seem to be on repeat, his stoned yet genuine question.

He’d had crushes on girls before – he’d thought of Luna, how much he felt for her during their first summer together, but still felt off. Like it wasn’t quite what it was supposed to be. He’d thought girls were pretty, but he’d also thought other guys were handsome as well. That didn’t make him gay though, right?

He thought of Prompto – and then Squall, and then back to Prompto. Squall, who was everything that Noctis tried so hard to be. Was his admiration just a side effect of repressed feelings? He envisioned himself kissing Squall, feeling his flannel bunched up in his hands, the press of his lips, it was fast, hard.

He felt nothing – nothing but awkward.

He imagines Prompto this time. It’s awkward, again, but in an endearing away, in a way that was unique to the two of them. It would be slow, hesitant, like a first kiss when you weren’t too sure if you actually liked someone. He can see Prompto’s freckles in his mind, those ocean eyes that would suck him before he had a chance to realize he was falling.

His lips would be soft, unlike Squall’s.

Noctis opens his eyes, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest. The uncomfortable feeling returns to his stomach, like he was going to vomit. He jumps from the shower, dripping wet, red from the heat. He leans over the toilet bowl and heaves for almost ten minutes, before salty tears begin dripping down his cheeks.

It isn’t fair, Noctis wants to scream.

His life has already been hard enough, and just as he was beginning to grow content with the boring year that was laid out for him, Prompto had come along and made things start happening.

The air kicks on just as shivers begin to rack his body, but still, Noctis can’t find it in him to move just yet. There’s something painfully undignified about crying naked and wet into a toilet bowl, and he isn’t quite ready to see his face.

“I’m a fucking wreck,” He whispers to himself, staring at his hands.

 


	3. Heroes

Cloud Strife keeps his secrets close to his chest. Even now, laying in the same bed as Zack with his head in his lap, Cloud feels like he’s committing some kind of moral crime. Probably because he is, his conscious includes. Their relationship had always been secret, but they’ve gotten looser around the group, and he’s sure, almost positive, that Squall suspects. But if he does, he doesn’t let on.

“Stop sulking.”

Zack stares up at him. There’s a storm surfacing in his eyes, enough to tear Cloud away from his current thoughts. It’s his special talent, being able to look at him and make him forget about every little thing that exists on the planet.

“I’m not sulking,” Cloud huffs, “I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Zack tilts his head as if trying to see a new angle of Cloud’s face he hasn’t seen before. There’s something soft in his gaze as he silently acknowledges that yes, it shouldn’t have to be the way it is, but it’s the time they live in. Zack knows these thoughts are better out, but he can’t force himself to utter those words because it still feels like he’s submitting to the society that hates him.

“You see what’s happening with Noct right now,” Zack hums, “we can’t just… come out.”  
“I know that I’m not saying we should. I just wish it didn’t have to be a big deal.”

It wasn’t fair – nothing was ever fair in high school. Things happen that fall out of your control and friendships break apart, suddenly the person you thought you knew becomes a total stranger and you’re left with whiplash at how fast it all changes. Being seventeen is an unpredictable circumstance that you have to endure to make it to the big 1-8, but even now, Cloud begins to wonder if turning eighteen is going to make much of a difference.

“Have you talked to Noct at all today?”  
“No,” Cloud responds, “but it’s Tuesday.”

Tuesday is always a day marked for drama. It’s like the worst of the worst emerge from the shadows to make the school week interesting by picking a new target. This week, it’s Noctis, his own friend. But, as terrible as Tuesday’s have become, Cloud, Zack, and that tiny group of stoners’ made a routine of coming to the bypass and smoking until they were no longer able to stand on their own.

He wonders if Noctis will make it out.

“You’re right.”

Zack groans as he sits up, it comes from the back of his throat and vibrates deeply in his chest, and Cloud thinks of the gravelly voice he uses when he gets mad. His boyfriend is a nice person, sweet to a fault with a short attention span that often leads people to underestimate him. An angry Zack Fair is someone to be feared. But it takes a lot for that anger to show, and Cloud has only seen it once in their history of knowing each other.

It was a strange thing, meeting and subsequently falling in love with Zack Fair.

 

* * *

 

_June 1991_

 

Cloud hates this new town.

It’s boring with nothing to look at, stretches of old brick shops that go for what feels like miles and end with nothingness, a Kmart that’s close to the duplex he and his mother are renting, and a brand new JCPenney’s. The town is quiet, a good fit for them, his mother reassures him. Her new job pays well, and the school is nice enough but overpopulated.

The duplex is a tiny thing with carpet from the 70s that smells like stale laundry. Yellow light cascades in through the windows, illuminating his new home. The place hardly feels like a home at all, there’s nothing homey about it. It’s a passing kind of a thing, a place he’ll stay for a few months before returning to his real home back in Florida.

He takes his bike from the back of the car and decides to explore, pulling out the Walkman he got for Christmas and ‘ _Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me’_ by _the Cure_.

It’s when he reaches the Kmart, that he sees him.

Zack Fair is a fast-moving blur of black and sky blue, moving past his peers like it’s nothing. They’re playing a game that Cloud doesn’t understand, but all he can focus on is Zack. He’s smiling and laughing and it’s infectious.

 

* * *

 

_September 1991_

He isn’t sure how it happened.

One-minute Zack Fair is on top of the world and the next Cloud finds him in the Kmart parking lot crying so much he doesn’t make any noise at all. They’ve never spoken and yet he feels it in every vein that this is his chance, his only chance.

The parking lot is empty, the night air is cold and the thin jacket Cloud brought isn’t enough to starve away the chills that the wind brings on. But he’s focused on Zack, who’s visibly shivering from so far away as he leans against his car. He turned sixteen a few months ago, and the car has earned him status as popular.

Cloud is used to watching Zack from afar, walking the halls and laughing with his friends, talking to Aerith Gainsborough while sitting on the hood. The boy that sits in front of him now is a practically a stranger.

Zack takes a deep, stuttering breath, finally looking up. His eyes are bloodshot but still blue, bluer than Cloud has ever seen them and so painfully sad. He’s never seen him look so despondent.

Without thinking, Cloud shrugs off his jacket and tosses it towards him. His long sleeves are thin, and it’ll be a matter of minutes before he’s shivering again, but it seems like the right thing to do. Zack catches it in one hand and stares at Cloud for a long minute as if he’s trying to decide how to feel now that his classmate is standing in front of him. 

“Thanks.”

Zack shrugs it on and doesn’t say much after that, just scoots over in silent invitation. Cloud takes his seat and tries to keep himself from shivering too much. He feels awkward as if he’s really not supposed to be there but he doesn’t make any attempts to leave.

“So, uh, what’s up?”

It’s not the right question to ask, but Cloud could spend the entire night pondering what the right one was. The point is – for the time being, it was right enough. Beside him, Zack scoffs and turns his head towards the darkened sky.

“Everything sucks.”

 

* * *

 

_January 1992_

 

Zack is wearing his jacket.

It’s early morning, too cold to be riding a bike to school but he missed the bus and his mom had already left. The air is harsh as it whips across his face, but none of it matters. Zack Fair is wearing his jacket and leaning against his car like something out of those shitty high school movies Tifa likes. He’s gotten taller over the past few months, pushing past 6’0.

From across the parking lot, his eyes are shining a little brighter than they were a few months ago. He pulls his headphones off, letting them rest around his neck as Cloud approaches. His heart is beating in his ears, his cheeks are red, but he’d like to think it’s from the cold.

“Hey,” Zack says, and then smiles.  
“Uh, hi,” Cloud replies, locking his bike.

Being in Zack’s proximity is a nerve-wracking experience. Tifa would be nudging his shoulder about now, pushing him closer and singing nursery rhymes to make him blush. She’s not here though, and suddenly Cloud is missing her more than ever. Even her gentle teasing was enough to get him through most interactions.

“You wanna get something to eat after school today?”

Zack Fair is blushing – it’s a light pink and when Cloud looks up, his eyes are hyper-focused on him. He shows no signs of backing down, no regret or fear is held in those sharp blues. He’s always been confident.

“S-Sure.”

 

They talk most of the afternoon and well into the evening. Zack is a fan of the Cure and surprisingly, Siouxsie and the Banshees. Cloud introduces him to Concrete Blonde and Joy Division and they bond over Nirvana. He’s an outsider like Cloud, from a tiny town in Maine where nothing ever happened.

He has no siblings but if he had to choose, he’d want a sister. By the end of the night, Cloud’s face hurts from laughing and he’s high on living. They sit on the tacky 70s shag carpet of his living room and listen to all his records.

“Bowie is amazing, fuck you,” Zack says exasperated, falling back against the carpet.

Cloud wants to kiss him.

It hits him like a whirlwind all at once, and his heart begins to shatter in his chest and the high of being around him wears down. He’s gorgeous, laying spread out on the ugly yellow carpet. His hair is dark and his eyes are bright.

“Apologies,” Cloud replies finally, rolling over to switch the cassettes out.

Even depressed, Cloud is smiling. Zack Fair has that effect on people.

 

* * *

 

_March 1992_

 

Zack and Aerith broke up during the school day.

It’s a quiet affair, unlike most high school breakups. Aerith is moving and it makes sense to break up, she says. It’s only during the evening when Cloud finds out. Zack appears on his doorstep.

“Come on, we’re going driving.”

His car is run-down and looks like it’s going to fall apart, but none of that matters. Cloud can be selfish, and for once, he’s allowing himself to be selfish and not feel guilty about it. Zack’s car smells like the cologne he wears, and when he sits back in the passenger seat, the smell gets stronger.

Zack pulls off down the street, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the radio. He looks lost, helplessly lost and afraid but he’s not going to cry. They pass the Kmart where they met and keep going, driving past the school and eventually out of town.

“It’s bullshit, you know? How high school works sometimes. Soon as Aerith and I broke up everyone fuckin’ knew right then. How is it any of their business?”

He takes a breather, pulling off the side of the road. The gravel crunches beneath his wheels and vaguely Cloud wonders if any of them are sharp enough to puncture a tire. The radio purrs lightly, the muted sound of Nirvana coming from the worn speakers. On any other occasion, he would have turned it up and forgot about the world, but tonight is the wrong night for that.

“They outed some kid on the football field today.”

Cloud turns his head up, staring at him through the darkness the night brings. Moonlight bounces off the hood of the car and makes Zack’s eyes stand out. He can see the unshed tears brimming over his lower lashes, dripping down his pale cheeks.

“Zack-“  
“Why is it everyone’s business? So, what he’s gay… It’s just bullshit, Cloud. All of it. This town, these people, high school.”  
“I’m sorry,” Cloud says because he isn’t sure what else to say.

“Let’s get high.”

 

They lay on the hood of his car, staring at the moonlight, passing a pipe back and forth and eventually the troubles start leaving their shoulders. The radio is loud enough so that they can hear it and for the first time in years, Cloud is content. He’s happy, though he knows his happiness is founded on selfish desires.

Every shift from beside him has his heart racing, the air from his lungs is getting trapped in his throat. Zack looks good stoned. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his eyes are wide. There’s still an underlying sadness to them that neither one of them will bring up, but for the moment, Zack is beautiful, and Cloud is in love.

Painfully in love with a boy in a town that will want to kill him for it.

 

* * *

* * *

 

_July 1992_

 

 Zack has started inviting himself over, not that Cloud minds. For the past two months, they’ve spent every day in his house, listening to music, watching reruns of ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air’ and occasionally Saved by the Bell if it’s late at night. Zack will lounge on the floor wearing his band t-shirts and dirty jeans. He comes straight from work mostly, smelling like French fries instead of cologne with ketchup on his pants.

But it’s all Zack and Cloud has begun to appreciate these tiny things that belong entirely to him.

“I smell like fucking grease!” Zack announces loudly, stepping into the tiny living room before migrating towards the stereo.

“You smell fine,” Cloud scoffs, turning off the tv.  
“Smell me!”

Zack lungs towards him, shoving his t-shirt into his nose as he half-straddles the couch with his hand on Cloud’s shoulder.

His heart is beating fast again, so powerfully in his ears that he wonders if he’s actually having a heart attack. Without thinking, Cloud reaches out, grabbing Zack’s hip to steady him as he wobbles on the couch. Both of his hands are pressed against his shoulders now and those electric blue eyes captivate him for the millionth time.

The stereo begins playing a record Zack had put it before lunging at him. The steady beat is familiar, and he’s sure he’s heard it before, but none of it matters. Zack makes no attempts to move Cloud’s hands, only continues to study his face as his cheeks grow redder.

For a brief second, Cloud begins to believe that love really does come so easily. That sitting here like this with Zack has no consequences. It’s all bullshit, Cloud thinks, remembering Zack’s words from all those months ago.

“Zack-“

Zack’s mouth is pressed against his. Zack Fair is kissing him – harsh and frantic as if he’s been waiting some time. His lips are surprisingly soft despite how much he bites at them, soft as his tongue exits and runs along Cloud’s lips. What little experience he holds in kissing is painfully apparent, but it feels natural. Cloud’s mouth falls open as he slides his hands up, holding Zack’s neck to keep him steady.

For all the years he’s wanted to kiss Zack, he isn’t about to let this moment escape him. His hands are shaking, and when the hands on his shoulder move to thread through his hair, and his body comes closer, a soft, breathy sigh leaves Cloud’s mouth.

Behind them, David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ is playing and Cloud wonders if Zack planned it all, but it doesn’t matter. Not now. What matters is Zack, the way he tastes (like Fanta orange soda) his smell (a mix of French fries, grease, and deodorant) and the way his body feels pressed against his.

When they finally part, they’re breathing heavy and just staring at each other. Zack’s eyes are wide but he’s still not moving away from him. All Cloud can wonder is how a single person can make him lose control so easily.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Cloud laughs, out of breath but grinning.  
“What was it?” Zack asks, pressing his forehead against his, equally out of breath but glowing still.  
“I don’t remember.”

Zack laughs again and presses his lips to Cloud again. It’s an intoxicating thing, kissing someone you’ve wanted to kiss for some time. He slides his hands up the dirty work shirt, feeling the toned muscle, the warm skin, the dips of his hips and sides and it’s hypnotic. Cloud’s pulling him closer and there’s no space left.

In his foggy brain, he knows he should stop. His mother is due home soon and he doesn’t want to be caught like this right now. The moment is too perfect and to imagine it being ruined is a terrible, terrible thing.

How did they go from the Kmart parking lot to making out on his couch, David Bowie playing in the background? He doesn’t even favor Bowie, but the music fits, like a perfect soundtrack to a perfect summer day.

Cloud lets his fingers tug at the strands of dark hair, feeling the soft strands ease between his fingertips as it falls from the ponytail Zack kept it in during work. He feels it brush against his own face, tickling his cheekbones.

Zack pulls away, taking a deep breath, resting against Cloud’s lap.

“My mom will be home soon,” Cloud says slowly.  
“I’m light-headed, so yeah, we should probably stop.”

Zack flops down beside him on the couch, his bare arms pressing to Cloud. He’s leaning on him, and though everything between them has just changed, he knows it’s going to work out.

“No regrets?” Zack asks, grinning.  
“None.”

* * *

September 1993

 

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Squall says.

He’s standing beneath the bypass, taking a hit off the pipe.

“Rinoa Heartilly is gonna be Noct’s girlfriend from this point forward. Understood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a clack chapter but Cloud is also very important to this story, as is Squall, so pls bear with me! More Noctis/Prompto next week!


	4. A Square Peg

Being Rinoa Heartilly's fake boyfriend is easy enough.

Aside from making a few public appearances, holding her hand when people were watching, and sitting with her at lunch, Noctis is content in this new arrangement. It works for Regis, who is glad to see that he has a girlfriend, and asks him often how she's doing. According to Rinoa, they met through Squall and she fell in love with him at first sight but decided to keep their relationship a secret because her father was a hardass.

It was mostly true - aside from the falling in love parts.

Now, Rinoa sits on his couch, Regis in the armchair as they talk about the town and about the people in it. Noctis watches silently from the kitchen, focusing on the crackling fire as their words become a mess of sounds in his mind. Having her here is strange, he thinks. They're barely friends - only coming together to play a part that will benefit both of them. He doesn't know her favorite color, her favorite band or where she likes to go after school. He doesn't know the first thing about who she really is, aside from the parts of her that she shows him.

It's a miracle to him that things haven't fallen apart already.

Sunlight peers into the window, breaking past the curtains as it shines against the tacky area rug that he hates so much. But it was his mother's choice, and much as he thinks the thing is gross, he can't bring himself to ask Regis to remove it.

The phone startles him from his thoughts, ringing loud enough for Regis and Rinoa to pause in their conversation to look at him. Noctis sets the butter knife down into the sink, reaching out for the black wall phone. He plucks it off the hook, shoving it between his cheek and shoulder as he continues making his sandwich.

"Hello?"  
"Noct? Good, I was hoping to get you."

Squall is out of breath, panting heavily into the phone on the other side.

"Hey man," Noctis says, trying hard to appear casual as Rinoa and Regis continue once more.  
"How are things going over there?"  
"Good. Why do you ask?"  
"I'll be at the lot in 10 minutes. Cops are patrolling heavily tonight, so get the pot out of your car before taking off."  
"Gotcha, thanks."

He hangs up the phone, pushing the plate aside as he grabs his keys. The last thing he wants after things are going so well is to be busted on a drug charge. Though he cares little for his father's opinion, he isn't about to drag Regis down as well. His car is nice for a first car, pristine and a symbol of his wealth.

One look at the inside, however, and it's clear it belongs to a teenager. Fast food wrappers are scattered across the floorboards and loose cassettes are stuck in the cracks between the seat and center console. Noctis slides in, resting in the front seat for a moment. His decision not to drive rested primarily on the fact that he didn't want his car vandalized by those who bore ill will against him - he'd learned his lesson once.

Since he began 'dating' Rinoa, he's started taking the car more often.

He lifted the center console, pulling out the small box he kept his stash in and shoving into his pants pocket. He let his shirt fall over it, shutting the door as he made his way back into the house, thankful for Squall's tip. He got pulled over every so often for a bizarre excuse such as routine traffic stops to looking like a criminal on the loose.

It's the hair, Squall says.

Or the fact that he's the mayor's son. Either is a valid excuse.

* * *

 

The playground is mostly abandoned when Noctis arrives. Save for a small family of three, it's blissfully quiet. The park is one of Squall's favorites, this one in particular. It's quiet and mostly untouched, a relic of the past despite the city's attempts at fixing it up and modernizing it. They've taken the large, haphazard jungle gym down and replaced it with a volleyball court that goes unused.

What remains, however, is the tall metal slide that would burn your thighs on summer days. It's not as tall as Noctis remembers it to be, but it's a nice relic of his time there. The only other remaining artifacts are the swing set and another slide and monkey bar set. It's once vibrant yellow paint has weathered with age, and now the inside is covered in graffiti and names enclosed in hearts.

Squall sits at the top of the monkey bars, the dwindling sunlight disappearing rapidly behind him as street lamps kick on, emitting a harsh, orange glow. The family packs up somewhere in the distance, car driving off down the seemingly abandoned streets. Squall tilts his head up at Noctis and Rinoa's arrival. His eyes seem to switch from him to her rather quickly, not that either of them is surprised.

"You know what this reminds me of?"

Rinoa climbs up onto the monkey bars, positioning herself on top of them. Noctis is hesitant to follow, staring up at the two of them and feeling like a third wheel. Is this the part where he leaves and waits for Rinoa to call him from a payphone?

Squall, as if sensing his unease, gestures for him to follow her. Noctis does.

"I feel like this is the part where we start talking about life. It's just dramatic enough for that."

It does feel like something out of a movie. The orange glow of the street lamps illuminate their faces, and they look like something off an album color. Vaguely, Noctis wishes he could take a picture. It'd probably be the only cool picture of him to exist in this time. Squall looks at her, face concealed in shadows, but Noctis can see that he's smiling.

"Life sucks," Noctis hums.

The monkey bars make a painfully uncomfortable chair, and already his ass is cramping, but he doesn't want to move just yet.

"Come on," Rinoa says, "something else besides that. What do you wanna do after leaving this town?"

Almost everyone that lived in their town talked about getting out. Noctis had, a handful of times, imagined himself living someplace else, closer to the music scene. Somewhere like New York in a shady apartment that was too loud, or Los Angeles, to see how close he got to stardom.

"I'm gonna be a fuckin' rockstar," Squall quips.  
"Squall!"

Rinoa shoves him lightly, just enough to jostle him, but not to make him fall. Squall lets out a gentle laugh, and Noctis is left surprised. The interactions between them are so easy, and it's like witnessing a different Squall entirely. It's like realizing the one he knows is just an act, a persona made to hide the truth.

He never knew about Squall's past, how he made it to Castleton and developed the reputation he did. He wondered what series of events was triggered to have an outcome like this.

"Can't force deep conversations," he whistles casually, "just has to happen naturally."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. It'd been a full two weeks since the entire ordeal with Prompto began, a full two weeks and Noctis had survived despite believing otherwise. Dealing with the torment of his abusers had led for a long week, and despite playing a convincing part as Rinoa's boyfriend, not all of his problems were solved so easily. There are still those who house doubts, those who sneer at him and write 'Fag' on his locker during lunch.

But things got easier for him.

He can't say the same for Prompto.

He looks more depressed than usual, walking through the halls with his head down, slipping in and out of class unnoticed and skipping lunch. Noctis has begun consciously searching for him in the lunch room. To be fair, the lunchroom is the worst place for someone like him to be. Even Noctis is unable to escape all attention. Still, he wonders where Prompto has run off to. He's started to miss his face on the bus in the mornings, a slice of familiarity, a part of his routine gone.

"What are you thinking about?"  
"Shit isn't fair," Noctis says, "the way it all had to happen."

In silent understanding, the tiny group knows exactly what his words mean.

"It isn't," Rinoa hums, "but it's just how it turned out. Turning a blind eye to it won't fix it."  
"I'm not turning a blind eye to it..."

Rinoa looks at him, judgment in her eyes as she frowns.

"When was the last time you talked to Prompto? Offered him some support?"   
"I can't do that because if I do-"   
"The torment will start all over again, I know. The more you let it bother you the more they're going to see that it's bothering you and they won't let up." 

Rinoa was right, in a sense. But pretending not to be bothered by the endless harassment and spray paint on his lockers was a task easier said than done. It wasn't as easy as simple as turning a blind eye to his tormentors who looked for every opportunity to get him alone so they could beat the shit out of him. 

"They're just a bunch of assholes who think they're entitled to hurt you," Squall says.   
"Why though?"   
"They're assholes," He insists, staring at him this time. 

Rinoa sighs, jumping down from the monkey bars. Pebbles disperse at her landing, scattering across the landscape. Noctis and Squall follow, trailing behind her like lost puppies as she moves through the empty playground towards the small, children's playground set. 

"Look," Rinoa says, holding up a round peg.   
"It's a round peg," Noctis says dumbly.   
"A round peg that only fits in the round hole. You try to put the square peg in and it won't fit without changing it. The square peg fits in the square hole. Right?" 

The boys nod, exchanging curious glances at each other and then to Rinoa. 

"The school is a round hole Noctis. You're a square peg, Squall's a triangle, I'm the heart peg. We don't fit, but that's okay. There's only a tiny portion of people that do. But they aren't all round. Some just changed what they were, but now they're all damaged."   
"Are you really using an expression to relate to high school?"   
"Works doesn't it?" 

Rinoa dropped the peg, letting it clatter against the plastic playground set. 

"Point is, everyone is a different peg trying to fit in the same hole, including you and Prompto. You can watch others struggle, or you can help them and find your way together."   
"Damn," Squall huffs.   
"That's cheesy." 

Rinoa glares, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Maybe I'm just a cheesy person." 

From the corner of his eye, Noctis sees Squall looking at him, eyebrows pulled together. Once Squall realizes that he can see him, he looks away quickly. 

* * *

 

It isn't hard to find Prompto. 

He's sitting in the drama theater in the very back by himself, staring at the empty room in silence. Noctis slips in, shutting the door behind him. The soft click of the door is enough to make Prompto look up. His eyes are wide and alert, the yellowish discoloration of a bruise still present on the bottom of his face. 

"Just you," Prompto says quietly, crossing his feet over the chair in front of him.  
"Just me," Noctis repeats, coming to sit beside him. 

It's awkward, just sitting like this in silence, knowing the history between them. Maybe the note had been a tad flirty, maybe his classmates had seen how they looked at each other and put two and two together. Even if their assumptions were wrong, it was high school, and until they proved without a doubt that they weren't together, the entire school would believe that they were and punish them for it. 

"How are you," Noctis forces himself to ask. 

Beside him, Prompto sighs. 

"Could be better. I've learned how to avoid them though. Just gotta learn how to hold it to avoid bathrooms now." 

Noctis remembers the incident in the bathroom with Loqi and shivers. He's still ashamed he let someone smaller than him beat the shit out of him, but it can't be helped now. He wonders how much Prompto has dealt with since it all happened. Despite telling him it wasn't his fault, Noctis had been acting as though it was. It wasn't anyone's fault, really. 

  
"Or how to fight," Noctis jokes, "I know a guy."   
"Of course you do," Prompto says, smiling. 

His eyes are like the ocean on a bad day. A little darker than when they first met, a little deader. Whether it's from the torment or high school alone, Noctis isn't sure. There are dark circles forming under his eyes and his hair is messy, falling from its usual style. His freckles are more prominent as Prompto goes paler from the cold weather. His lips are cracked and there's a cut in the corner of the bottom. 

He looks like a mess, and Noctis feels the twist of guilt in his stomach. 

Maybe if he had helped, this wouldn't have happened. 

"Seriously," Noctis says, "Gladio Amicitia."   
"That super buff dude with the mullet?" Prompto responds, staring at him incredulously.   
"Yeah, that's him. He taught me how to defend myself, at least."  
"Yeah, I don't think defending myself is gonna solve the problem when there's six of them." 

Six? All Noctis had to deal with was one, trying to imagine six was a nightmare. He wonders how Prompto escaped alive. 

"Jesus-fuck," Noctis says, frowning.

He sits back against the wooden theater chair with a huff, crossing his arms. It's because of who he is, Noctis thinks. He's the mayor's son, and though it doesn't excuse him from all ridicule. It certainly does stop him from having to fight off six guys, however. 

"Who?"   
"Only one I recognized was Seifer Almasy." 

Noctis paled, turning to face Prompto. He'd heard that name a handful of times, spoken with abject hatred. Seifer Almasy was the only person to really get under Squall's skin, the only time he ever witnessed his friend lose his cool. The only person who could rival him. He remembered Seifer from middle school, bullying the smaller kids and stealing their food because he knew they wouldn't fight.

Seifer was the only person that Squall voluntarily fought. 

"You know him?" Prompto asks.  
"He's Squall's rival. Like, life-long rival. Only person Squall fights voluntarily."

Despite his reputation, Squall was never one to get into fights for shits. He believed in fair fights, never one to join in bullying just to 'release some steam'. It made him hate Seifer, who did all the things he didn't believe in. Seifer, who believed in fighting anyone who so much as looked at him weirdly. 

"Shit," Prompto said quietly, "makes sense for a guy like that to rival someone like Squall."   
"Come on." 

* * *

 

Squall is perched on the hood of his car when they arrive. He looks up, only slightly alarmed, his eyes instantly going from Noctis to Prompto. Prompto gulps nervously, standing behind Noct as he rushes forward. 

"It was Seifer," Noctis says.  
"What?"   
"Seifer was the one that beat the shit out of Prompto," He says again, letting his palms press flat to the rusted hood.   
"So? Nothing I can do about it now," Squall replies. 

There's an inkling of fierce hatred in his eyes at the mention of Seifer's name, you'd have to be blind not to see it. He clenches his fists together, drawing the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He's angry - Noctis can see it. 

"But it was him, so next time-"   
"Go to Gladio. Teach him how to defend himself." 

Noctis sighs. Despite his hatred for Seifer, it wasn't enough for Squall to become directly involved for someone who wasn't even a friend. Behind him, Prompto shifts awkwardly on the balls of his feet. 

"What a great friend you are," Noctis huffs quietly.   
"Fuck off. I can't be there to save your asses everytime someone decides to attack you. Learn to defend yourselves." 

Squall pushes past him, jumping off the hood of his car and sliding into the driver's side. Noctis' cheeks flare red in anger, and he stands for a moment, watching his friend drive out of the parking lot. Were they ever really friends? He remembers what Squall said when they first met, about not having friends and then frowns. 

_'I don't do friendship. I don't hang out with people and do shit, I don't do people.'_

"I appreciate the effort, but it's okay," Prompto says behind him, "he's right. We should learn how to defend ourselves."   
"That's not the point! He should..." 

But he wouldn't. Squall would never put his reputation on the line for someone he didn't know. 

"Let's go to Gladio." 

Prompto reached out, wrapping a hand around Noctis' arm and tugging him out of the parking lot. 

"No PDA fags!" 

A large body crashes into the side of him, knocking Prompto over. He stumbles against the concrete, cutting his palms on the rough gravel surface. 

"Fuck off," Noctis grits, staring. 

It would make sense for Seifer to appear now of all times. Was he waiting? Bidding his time until Squall took off so he could attack them both alone? 

"The fuck's going on over here?" 

All heads turned. Zack Fair rounded the corner, all 6'3 of him with a look Noctis has never seen before. His eyebrows are pulled together, muscles straining against his skin as he slowly stalks towards Seifer. His eyes are alive with fire, he's moving slow, calculated. 

"This isn't your business, piss off. We're entitled to-"  
"Entitled to what? Being a bunch of douchebags for the sake of it?" 

  
"Fuck. Off." 

 


	5. Polaroids and Pretenders

Zack Fair is a man rarely angry.

It's the first time in almost a year of friendship that Noctis has seen Zack angry. He's used to him looking so friendly, used to him fitting the nickname 'Zack the Puppy' but now, there's nothing soft about him, nothing sweet in his facial expression. His hair is swept back away from his shoulders in a loose hold. The black elastic threatens to fall out, but Zack doesn't seem to care.

"Fair-"  
"Fuck off," Zack interrupts, "get out of here."

Seifer seems to contemplate his options, freezing in his stride towards Zack.

"Nah."

Seifer launches towards Zack, his fist slamming into his chest. Zack stumbles backward. Noctis moves forward, gripping Seifer's t-shirt and pulling him backward.

"Ah, shee-it."

A set of hands is pulling him backward, pinning his arms behind his back. His legs going haywire in front of him as another one of Seifer's friends tries to grab him. His foot impacts with the man's chest, and beside him, a flash of blond is struggling. Prompto is, surprisingly, a competent fighter when it comes down to it.

The chill of the fall seems like nothing now when faced with the heat and adrenaline. Zack is a good fighter - a great one in fact. He can't see much past the body in front of him, but he can see Seifer stumbling. His captor looks up at his leader, and Noctis takes the opportunity to slam his foot into the man's shin. His arms are released, but it's still an uneven fight.

"Zack!"

There's a shout over the sound of feet on pavement and collision noises. Another familiar face appears from nowhere, and Noctis begins to believe in miracles. Cloud Strife seems to have an inner radar that tells him when his friends are in trouble. He's beside Noctis in a second, pushing past the man in front of him.

For the first time, Noctis is able to see Zack. There's a spot of blood on his lip, but otherwise, he looks okay. Prompto is doing a little worse, but still managing.

"Go help Prompto," Noctis grits, "I can handle this."

Cloud nods before pushing the guy far enough back to break through.

An elbow is jammed into his side, and for a moment, Noctis stumbles backward. There were a lot of things hitting him, and the more he focused on Prompto, the worse off he was going to be. He instead turned his attention to the two men in front of him. It seemed they were perfectly content in letting Seifer fight Zack alone, despite his obvious struggle.

At once they launched towards him, Noctis forces himself to remember the vital points. A hand smashes into the middle of his chest, and he feels his body begin to curl, but stops himself before he can. A knee to the one to his left's groin, a fist into the nose of the other. The smell of sweat taints the air, mixing with the light, light smell of the cafeteria and dumpster.

"STOP!"

All at once, people began to scatter. Noctis is left panting on his knees on the sidewalk, finally letting himself curl up. His chest is burning, his jaw feels as though it's become disconnected somehow. One look around and his friends aren't much better - but they are, however, in better shape than their opponents. Seifer is struggling to stay on his feet, swaying and leaning against the wall. There are several small cuts across his face, making the blood that drops down from them looking gruesome.

The boys who fought Cloud and Prompto were knocked out, laying on the concrete. The boys in front of Noctis had left almost immediately, but as he watched them retreat, the limp was unmistakable.

He's left angry, angry where he should feel a sense of victory. Angry that Squall had left them, angry that he decided not to do anything. Angry that things had to be the way that they did.

"They started it," Zack spit, turning to the teacher, Quinby, that approached.

There were several, as well as a small crowd that had gathered sometime in the midst of the fight. Students began dispersing while Zack, Noctis, Cloud, and Prompto were all ushered into the principal's office. Noctis knew what came next. It was inevitable, as inevitable as the end could be. Much as he tried to keep himself out of trouble for the sake of keeping his father's reputation, this would get out and the entire town would be silent uproar.

 

He imagined Regis' disappointed look.

He's no stranger to the Principal's office by now, but it is the first time he's been with others. There are barely enough chairs for all of them. Zack is sitting next to him, arms crossed over his broad chest, a tampon shoved into his nose. Even while looking slightly ridiculous, there's something to be admired in him. He put his reputation on the line for them, despite hardly knowing Prompto.

And Cloud, who didn't hesitate to help Prompto.

"Boys we understand the circumstances, but there are no excuses for fighting on school grounds. We're being lenient, as most of you," The Principal, Mr. Bolin, eyes Zack carefully, and then Prompto, "have clean records. However, you all know the school rules. Cloud, you could have easily come and got a teacher in that situation."  
"They were struggling," Cloud insists, "he could have been hospitalized."

Mr. Bolin frowns, shaking his head.

"I doubt it would have gotten that far. You know our school rules. Zack, Prompto, you're expected to attend detention next Friday after school. Understood?"

Zack and Prompto nod.

"You may go."

Zack cast one look back at them as they left, his expression longing, nostril expanded to accommodate the size of the small tampon. He looked unintentionally hilarious - but Noctis couldn't find it in him to laugh. Prompto drops a wad of bloody tissue into the trashcan as he left. Between the four of them, they'd used the entire box of Kleenex Mr. Bolin had to offer.

"As for you two. Due to this being your second and third offenses, respectively... you're both receiving an in-school suspension for the remainder of the school week. Your parents have been notified."

He wasn't particularly surprised, but it was still a problem. His third offense, his last offense before he was threatened with expulsion.

"Go on."

* * *

 

Regis is unimpressed upon arrival. His eyes are distant as he observes the bench full of students, recognizing the familiar faces of Zack and Cloud. Beside Noctis, Prompto shifts uncomfortably under the eye of Regis. It's almost as though he knows, without asking, who it is and what the situation was about before asking.

"Hey, Mr. Caelum," Zack says, waving a hand.

For a brief second, Noctis had forgotten the tampon lodged into his friend's nose and lets his head fall forward into his palms.

"Zack," Regis replies, frowning, "you've looked better."

There's a hint of humor in his tone as he steps towards his son.

"It wasn't my fault, I swear," Noctis says.  
"That's not the point. The point is this is your second fault within a month and I can't bail you out this time."

As he finishes speaking, a slew of other parents enter. Some Noctis is able to recognize, but Prompto's guardian is something else entirely. He's tall, with dark hair cut short and blue eyes. He has a tough expression to him, like a man who's been through war and made it out alive. The look he gives Prompto is stern but forgiving, and he casts a glance back at Mr. Bolin, glaring, angry.

Zack's mother grabs him by the collar, yanking him out the door.

"See ya later guys!"  
"No, you won't!"

The office door shuts behind them, the glass allowing Noctis to watch as his friend is scolded.

Cloud's mother is the last to arrive. When she sees her son, all she does is sigh quietly and wait for him to follow her. Noctis follows Regis out the door and their silent for a moment, sliding into the car together and taking off down the road. It's just past one in the afternoon, and the streets are practically abandoned, save for a small handful of cars that pass every few minutes.

"What happened?" Regis finally asks.  
"Just Seifer," Noctis replies, "We were talking to Squall, I think he was there for him and we just got in the way. Zack stepped in and Seifer threw the first punch. Seifer's gang jumped us and we fought back."  
"Was the other blond boy-"  
"Yeah."

* * *

 

Squall is sitting on the roof of his car, rusted and paint chipping, the color of mustard yellow. Inside the interior is falling apart, and if you aren't careful, you'll end up with a spring up your ass. But still, Noctis has been content in riding passenger almost his entire duration of their friendship. Until now.

The tension between them is awkward and uncomfortable. The bruises on Noctis' face tingle as Squall continues to look at him from the corner of his eye. He's starting to wish Squall would say something, anything to ease the uncomfortable atmosphere that has collected around them. The silence is unbearable, even the quiet radio that hums isn't enough to make it any less quiet.

It's as if the tension itself is sucking all the sound away outside of their breathing.

They were going to pick up Rinoa. Noctis would have gone by himself, but as punishment for fighting, Regis confiscated his keys. Not that he used his car much anyway, but it was still enough for him to call Squall.

"Why did you just run off," Noctis finally lets himself ask, feeling as though he's calm enough to speak.

Since getting in the car, he's felt his anger, palpable, breathing, as though it was another organ inside his stomach. It's the Caelum blood - something's fucking wrong with it.

"I'll get expelled if I get into any more fights. Quinby was watching."

Noctis remembers now, the scrawny teacher that had appeared from nowhere to break up their fight. Quinby was a small, lanky man who spoke in a high-pitched, nasally voice and was always doing things in an attempt to earn respect from his students. He was the teacher they regularly tormented, whether it by throwing things, purposefully being assholes during class, or loosening the bolts on his chair, it was always something.

It didn't help that Squall was a prime-offender in Quinby's torture. Since then, he's done everything he could to get Squall expelled. With last two warnings happening within the month, if he gets into another fight, they can expel him without question. It's what Quinby wants.

Noctis doesn't say anything else. He feels foolish for being so angry at Squall, but it doesn't change anything. He's still angry and without keys to his car.

They pull up outside Rinoa's home, and Noctis does the mandatory walk to the front door, hoping it's her that answers and not her father. He looks like hell, despite his best efforts to get cleaned up and presentable.

He knocks on the door three times, watching as Squall scrambles to lay flat in the floorboards of the backseat like he always does when they come to visit.

"Noctis, what a surprise."

His luck is shit today - it's her father, Fury. He observes Noctis with disdain, whether that's because he's 'dating' her daughter or because he looks terrible, Noct isn't sure. His eyes catch on the bruises on his face and knuckles, before floating back up to his eyes.

"You get into a fight today?"  
"Just a small little alteration," Noctis replies, "boys will be boys."

He's heard Fury use the term before, excusing college boys of fighting and sexual assault. He seems content with Noctis' answer, stepping aside as Rinoa slips past him. For a moment, her eyes widen, and she's going to ask about his bruises. Noctis shakes his head, nodding towards the car. Rinoa seems to understand. With a final wave to her father, the two head out to the car.

It's only when they make it past the corner that Squall sits up in the backseat.

"What happened to you?" She asks, touching his face gently.  
"It's nothing," Noctis replies, batting her hand away, "just got into a fight with Seifer and his gang."

Rinoa turns back to Squall, who's notably free of any scrapes or bruises.

"Where were you?"  
"I can't get into any more fights," Squall replies, "I'll get expelled."  
"So you just ran away and left your friends defenseless?"  
"Woah hold on," Squall sits up, eyebrows pulled together.

The car juts forward awkwardly, propelling all of them forward. It's a stick-shift, a shit one at that. What experience he has in stick shift is purely limited to watching Squall do it and trying to memorize where all the gears were at.

"This isn't my fault. The only person at fault here is Seifer," He says, "he's the one that started the shit."  
"He was after you, probably," Rinoa stresses, "there are others ways to solve a problem other than fighting."

Squall sits back in the seat, crossing his arms.

* * *

 

Bidding time between Squall and Rinoa's dates is the worst part.

Today, there's an air of tension between them, undoubtedly due to the events of the day, and Noctis wants to get as far away as possible while still remaining in the vicinity. At first, he lounged on the hood of Squall's car, before deciding his ass hurt and that he should take a walk. Sometimes he was lucky and they choose entertaining things to do, like going to catch a movie or heading to Squall's house.

If they headed to his, Noctis usually walked down to Cloud's and hung out with both him and Zack until they were done.

But tonight, Rinoa had wanted to do a nature walk which left Noctis in the middle of a parking lot, surrounded by trees in dead silence.

"Noctis?"

There are few people in his town that still called him Noctis - that being the teachers in school, adults, and Prompto Argentum.

Noctis turns, staring at the blond boy over his shoulder. He's dressed normally now, out of his bloodied clothes though the bruises on his flesh are prominent still. He's holding a camera, an older model that Noctis doesn't recognize - it's something with the Polaroid label.

"The hell are you doing all the way out here?" Noct asks, jumping back up onto the hood of Squall's car.  
"Taking pictures... I have a lot of films that are set to expire soon and after the photo's get all distorted if I don't use it."

He squats down, aiming the lens towards the trees as they cut fade into the sky.

"Film can expire?"  
"The picture can come out all orangey, and if it's really bad, the corners won't even show up at all. It's pretty much useless after that."

Noctis has never been interested in the world of photography. Despite having an overall respect for it, there's something that stops him from becoming invested. But the hobby suits Prompto well.

"One day, all of this will just be memories, but we'll have this picture, and it's this tiny piece of history captured. It's like stopping time and taking a picture."

The picture comes out, and Prompto takes it between two practiced fingers. He flicks his wrist a few times, and slowly, colors begin to appear on the film. It's the trees, just as he aimed, not that Noctis is surprised. He's seen how photo's work before, but hearing Prompto explain it puts a new meaning behind it. In a single photograph, they've stopped time, forever immortalized through a bizarre chemical process.

"What about you? What are you doing out here?"

Prompto straightens up, looking at him with those eyes like the ocean.

"Waiting for Squall and Rinoa to finish their date," He says.

Prompto raises an eyebrow, staring at him for a long moment.

"Shit, okay. Rinoa's dad doesn't like Squall, so I'm pretending to be her boyfriend so they can still date and because it gets some people off my back."  
"Ah, pretending?"

He seems almost relieved now, as the word 'pretending' slips from his lips like it's easy.

"Yeah, _pretending._ "

Prompto smiles up at him, sitting down on the pavement.

Noctis decided that he liked Prompto. He was a good person, a good person with a shitty reputation that made people stay clear of him like he was some kind of highly infectious disease. He was a person, a person with interests outside of high school, someone who was just trying to survive against the current, trying hard not to drown when there were multiple people pushing on his shoulders.

"You give it a shot," Prompto says, handing the camera to him.

It's a weighty thing, warm from Prompto's touch and unfamiliar beneath his. He sits beside Noctis, positioning it in the appropriate way. His hands are softer than Noctis is expecting. He glides his fingers over the buttons, speaking low in his ear at the right ones to push and how to adjust levels and things that Noctis doesn't quite understand.

"And then you push here, to take the picture."

Noctis turns, going from facing the trees to facing Prompto. Alerted, but he still smiles, turning his face towards the ground as Noctis captures the image. There's a tiny blush on his cheeks that makes his freckles stand out. The picture slides out, and with an untrained grip, Noctis imitates Prompto, flicking his wrist a few times while keeping an eye trained on the image.

When the colors begin appearing, he lifts it to his face to look at it.

For his first photo, it's not bad. A little out of focus, a little off-center, but still, it's clear what he was trying to take a picture of. The image of Prompto is clear, sitting on the pavement with his hands on his knees, smiling at the ground as he blushes.

He knows that Prompto has a crush on him. He'd have to be a fool not to. It's like a gut feeling, he thinks, something that surfaces when someone has a crush on him, that lets him know his suspensions may be true. It's the same feeling he got when Iris, Gladio's sister, got a crush on him. Maybe it's just cruel, being his friend and keeping him on the line like he is.

But for right now, those thoughts are miles away. He can't stop looking at the picture. 


End file.
